MAGNET: A Draco Malfoy Love Story Chapter 1
by xKawaiiApples
Summary: Eryka Whyte is a young girl, who has always been different. Not a lot of people like her, including her own bitter father. She meets a Hogwarts professor while leaving school one day, and her world is instantly turned upside down. DracoxOC story.


Magnet [A Draco Malfoy FanFiction]

Part One: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter One

Mr. Nicholas Whyte stepped out the door of his average home in the outskirts of London. He was a banker, and a proper man with a proper house, and a proper car. His life was decent, and he made a decent income.

The only problem with Mr. Whyte's life was his daughter. Eryka Whyte was a peculiar girl, who never really fit in with her schoolmates. Although he never asked, Mr. Whyte knew that she hadn't any friends, and she never asked to have anyone over, for this reason. To be honest, it didn't really make much of a difference to him, because having ten-year-old little girls over while he was trying to work would only be a nuisance.

He was always reluctant to bring Eryka to one of his business parties, because whenever he did, something _always _went wrong. She normally ended up insulting a good client, breaking something, or both—at the same time. Mr. Whyte didn't like talking to his daughter, and whenever he actually spoke to her, he was usually scolding her. Of course, being a young girl, Eryka didn't understand many things at such an age, and jumped to the conclusion that her father didn't like her much, and she was probably right.

His wife, the late Mrs. Maya Whyte died when Eryka was at a young age. Most members of the bank speculate that Mrs. Whyte's death is probably the reason that Nicholas is the way he is. Some people who had a one-sided friendship with the man felt bad for his daughter, always being neglected. She got in trouble everyday, on average, and she had given up fighting back a long time ago. She just mumbled a 'sorry', and went upstairs to her room.

Mr. Whyte couldn't help but get angry whenever his pesky daughter asked about his wife. She didn't know Maya, so she doesn't deserve to know about her, he thought. That was just the way he'd always seen things; it was none of her business.

The house of the dysfunctional Whyte family was plain, with red bricks, and white shutters. It was an older style house, with three bedrooms to it. However, only two people inhabited it. Mr. Whyte, and his only child, Eryka, lived in that house, on the corner of the street, for as long as the young girl could remember.

It wasn't a very entertaining house, with no rooms to explore or play in. It only had the basics of a house: a kitchen, a dining room (used solely for dinner parties), two bathrooms, three bedrooms, and Mr. Whyte's study, which was absolutely off-limits to children.

There were, however, _three_ bedrooms in the Whyte family's house. The third bedroom used to belong to Mr. and Mrs. Whyte, but after she died, Mr. Whyte couldn't bare to use the room anymore, because of the haunting memories of his late wife. Of course, to his major dismay, when Eryka was much younger, she tried to go into that room at least once a week.

After her father scolded her, she tried to make something of a game out of it. If she could go into the room without her father knowing, she would win this game of hers, but he always found out. Whether it is as she was going down the hall, or opening the door, or simply walking by his study, she was scolded, and told to return to her room immediately.

'But father!' Eryka cried out of frustration, 'I just want to look! What's in there?' She cried out, and looked to her father with pleading eyes, hoping that he'd give in just this once. Obviously, Eryka over-estimated her father.

'_Absolutely not!' _he exclaimed, his voice beginning to rise. 'You don't need in there, Eryka! It's exactly as it was before Maya died, and it wont change. Just leave the damn room alone, won't you?' he asked, his face slowly turning red.

'All right, sorry…' her voice trailed of, and she didn't even need to be told 'Return to your room!' because, by this point, it was a daily routine. She would ask her father for something, and he would decline immediately, and she would retire for the night.

Sometimes, out of pure boredom, she would ask him for stupid, ridiculous things, just to see how he would react. One day, Eryka got up the courage to knock on the door of his study. After he privileged her entrance, she began to speak in a low voice.

'Father, I was wondering—' before she could complete her sentence, she was cut off.

'What is it now? I'm working, Eryka.' He said, with a long sigh. He didn't look up at her once. His face never left the paper he was writing longhand.

'Well, you see, some of the girls in my class, they've been talking about how their parents bought them assorted coloured ponies, and dyed them different colours: blue, purple, orange, rainbow… you name it, a girl in my class would have one. I was wondering, if maybe, I could get one too…?' by now, Eryka's dad had looked up at her, wondering if she were sane. He muttered something like 'you've _got _to be kidding me. What the hell did I do to deserve this?' but Eryka didn't hear.

'There's no such thing,' he said dismissively. 'The girls in your school were simply pulling your leg.'

'B-But, how could you be sure? Something of the sort must exist!' she said, desperately trying to get a better reaction out of him.

'The ponies would _die _of ink poisoning if you put coloured dye onto them. Just—'

She sighed, and mumbled 'Return for the night, and we'll speak later. I know, I know…' It was the same thing, every time.

Years and years passed, and their relationship never changed. They both grew older bit by bit, and Eryka soon became ten years old, on the brink of eleven. Her blonde hair had become longer, and she got a little taller, but not by much.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, a few days before school would let out for the summer, when Eryka's teacher, Mrs. Henri, pulled her aside.

'Eryka, dear, I just wanted to talk to you about your grades…' her voice trailed off, as she dug Eryka's report card from her desk.

Eryka could already guess that her marks were bad. It was just another thing for her father to get angry about.

'Did I…' she mumbled the rest, not speaking very clearly.

'What did you say, sweetie?' Mrs. Henri asked, not looking up. She was a very disorganized woman, well into her fifties. Her hair was starting to grey, and was awfully frizzy. She wore square, metal glasses that sat on the edge of her nose. Eryka didn't like her very much, though she wouldn't admit to it if you asked her. Whenever any other students would make fun of Eryka for being so 'bloody weird', she would complain to the teacher, who simply shrugged it off, claiming that they were just having some good fun. Eryka always said 'well it isn't _'just good fun' _to me…' So Eryka began not to like or trust any of her teachers from that point on.

Eryka continued what she tried to say a moment ago.

'Did I actually pass _anything?' _she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mrs. Henri simply laughed, but it came out as a sort of cackle, and the teacher pulled out Eryka's report. It was the end of the day, and Eryka was standing at the edge of her teacher's desk, rocking back and forth on her feet—a bad habit of hers when she got nervous.  
>'You've got to give yourself <em>some <em>credit, sweetheart.' She said, taking the paper. Her voice trailed off, though, as she looked at the marks. Mrs. Henri was the type to sugar coat things. She often used words such as "sweetie", "sweethear" or "honey", much to the annoyance of other pupils. 'My, my… have you honestly been paying attention at_ all _during class?' the teacher asked, looking up to the younger girl's face.

'D'you want my honest answer? No. No, I have not. I find all of the lessons to be painfully boring.' Eryka didn't realize how rude she was being, and said it the same way she would greet a stranger on the street; absolutely nonchalant, and she didn't give it a second thought.

The educator rolled her eyes. _It's no wonder the other girls don't like her_, she thought, annoyed. _What a brat._

'Well,'Mrs. Henri paused, and propped up her glasses, only to have them fall to the edge of her nose once again. _That girl, _Mrs. Henri thought with a tut aloud, _she truly _is _a brat. I can understand why the other girls don't like her._

'Mrs. Henri?' Eryka asked, for the second time. The teacher had been so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize Eryka was trying to ask a question.

"Oh, yes? What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Henri, finally looking at her young student.

"Well… it's just that I was wondering whether or not I passed the fifth grade?" Eryka asked, turning her head to the side a little. Such an innocent question—or rather, the answer to it—would determine whether or not she was to be practically disowned by her father.

Eryka had left the classroom, with a sigh of relief. It turned out that Mrs. Henri would pass her, although both of them knew it was because Mrs. Henry didn't want to teach such a troublesome student another year. On the downside, however, Eryka still had to take her school report home to her father. This was something she dreaded doing every year, similar to how some people dread paying their bills, or going to the dentist's for a check-up.

As the young girl left the large, red brick building in downtown London, she noticed two things outside.

For one, some of the girls who enjoyed to tease her were waiting by the front gate, snickering. Eryka guessed that they were arguably just as eager to see her report as her father was, which was truly an accomplishment, even for them.

Fortunately, however, the second thing she noticed was much more interesting. It was a woman, who was extremely peculiar looking. Eryka felt it was a good idea to avoid her. Mr. Whyte had always told her that anything interesting was trouble, and to stay away from it.

The woman was standing a few dozen yards away from the school gate, and she had on a long, emerald green cloak, and a pointy witch's hat. She also wore glasses that sat on the edge of her straight nose. The woman had well-defined facial features, and Eryka could have guessed that this lady was a good five or six heads taller than her. _I'll just ignore her,_ Eryka thought cautiously. She didn't want to get involved with any strange people—she got into enough trouble on a daily basis anyway. If it came to dealing with some foolish school bullies, or a strange lady who looked intimidating and could get her into trouble with her father (again), Eryka would say that she would take the bullies, thank you very much.

So, Eryka took a large step forward, towards the black iron gate of the private school. However, when Eryka looked back to see the woman one last time, she was gone. In her place, was a large tabby cat sitting, staring back at her with large, green eyes. Little did she know that the little tabby cat on the street would very quickly, and very soon, change her life.


End file.
